


Her Way

by cassandraoftroy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, BAMF!Pepper, F/M, Martial Arts, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandraoftroy/pseuds/cassandraoftroy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pepper starts learning basic self-defense, in reaction to the dangerous life that she and Tony lead. Before long, she has an opportunity to put her lessons into practice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [secondalto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondalto/gifts).



> Written for avengersfest, for secondalto.

"Tony, where are we going?" Pepper adjusted the strip of black fabric stretched across her eyes.

"No peeking," Tony admonished. "I just finished the renovations on a new floor; I figured we could break it in together." They paused, and Pepper heard him open a door before gently guiding her inside. Their footsteps echoed on the uncarpeted floor, making the room sound larger than she'd expected. "Here we are," he announced, and slipped off her blindfold.

Her hands immediately went up to smooth out her hair from the disruption of the blindfold as her eyes swept the space. She blinked. "This is a firing range, Tony."

"Yeah. I figured we could try it out before the rest of the gang finds out that it's ready." Tony was already moving toward the weapons case on the wall.

Still standing where he'd left her by the door, Pepper stared after him. " _This_ is your idea of how we should spend our first morning off in a month?"

He turned to look at her, his face registering surprise. "You didn't seem to mind when I suggested we christen the other new areas of the Tower," he protested.

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn't quite stifle the smirk that pulled at one corner of her mouth. "That's because your idea of 'christening' involves having sex in every new room that's completed," she pointed out.

"We could have sex in here," Tony offered, gesturing at the rows of shooting stations with the hand not holding the small pistol he'd withdrawn from the case. "It wouldn't be the most comfortable sex we've ever had, but it would probably beat that one time in the shower – you remember, I slipped on the–"

"I remember, Tony." She snickered, despite her vexation. He could always do that to her; however annoyed she got with him, he could find a way to remind her that she found him endearing despite it all – or maybe because of it. She studied him for a moment. "You're serious about this."

He broke eye contact, staring down at the firearm in his hand. "Here's the issue," he began, "I know that having me in your life isn't always the safest thing. First what happened with Stane, and then again at the Expo." He started pacing. "And now, between being the face of the company and all the publicity and bullshit that comes along with that, and sharing a roof with a bunch of superheroes..." His gaze drifted back to her face. "I just want you to be as safe as possible."

Her expression softened into a smile. "You don't need to worry about me, Tony. Between Happy and the SI security team on the road, and JARVIS here at home, I'm probably the best-protected CEO in America. To say nothing of the security benefits of being Iron Man's girlfriend," she grinned, stepping toward him to slip an arm around his waist.

"That's just it, though," he said, putting the pistol back down inside the case to settle his arms around her. "With the Avengers Initiative and everything else, I can't always know that Iron Man won't be on the other side of the planet if something happens and you need me. I worry about you."

Her free hand came up to fuss with the sleeve of his t-shirt, picking imaginary lint off the fabric. "I worry about you too, Tony. Every day you go out there, I think about you holding that missile, flying up into that hole in the sky."

Tony covered her hand with his, then picked it up and dropped a light kiss on her knuckles. "I know. But I've got five other guys watching my back out there, doing their damnedest to make sure I come home." He hesitated for a moment. "Please don't tell Natasha I called her a guy."

Pepper's lips twisted into a wry smile. "It's better than the sexual harassment she put up with when she was Natalie from Legal."

He rolled his eyes. " _The point is_ , if you're ever in danger, I just want to know that you've got the best chance of looking out for yourself until I can get there."

"With a gun, Tony?" she asked, skepticism heavy in her voice. "When am I going to be carrying a gun? It doesn't exactly fit the cutting-edge CEO image."

"She's right," another voice echoed from the other side of the room. They turned to see Natasha approaching from the far door of the firing range, clad in surprisingly normal civilian clothes. "Her best bet for self-defense is going to be learning a few basic hand-to-hand moves." She turned her attention to Pepper. "Most attackers will assume you're more or less helpless, so you'll have the advantage of surprise. Then you just need to do enough damage to give yourself time to run."

Out of the corner of her vision, Pepper watched Tony try to decide whether to be pleased with the unexpected source of support for his plan to teach Pepper self-defense, or annoyed with the intrusion into their private time. "The range doesn't officially open until this afternoon," he observed, apparently settling on annoyance. "How did you know it was ready?"

Natasha gave him a _look_. "A little bird told me. Anyway," she continued to Pepper, "if you're interested in learning some basic techniques, I can help you."

"I'd like that," Pepper agreed, "thank you."

"Great," Natasha smiled. "If you've got some time this afternoon, meet me down in the gym. And later tonight, if you two want to join us, there's talk of having a movie night." She glanced at Tony. "Just you, Pepper, and _us guys_." With a too-sweet smile, she started past them toward the door they'd entered through. "I'll leave you to it, then. Clean up when you're done."

Tony watched her leave, then turned back to Pepper. "How does she do that?" he complained. "It's like she's _everywhere_."

Pepper shrugged, and leaned in to kiss the edge of his mouth. "Don't worry too much about it," she whispered in his ear, "she's on our side."

"As far as _we_ know," he grumbled, but subsided as she stroked his hair. "So... about that 'christening' idea..."

* * *

The text message from Natasha had come well after they'd finished up in the firing range; Tony had even convinced Pepper to try a few shots with the nine-millimeter. They were halfway through the Thai takeout that Tony had ordered for lunch when Pepper's phone beeped. Forty-five minutes later, standing in front of her closet, Pepper checked the message again:

3PM IN THE GYM, IF YOU'RE STILL INTERESTED. NO WORKOUT CLOTHES; USUAL BUSINESSWEAR, BUT THINGS YOU DON'T MIND RUINING.

She shrugged and set the phone down on her dresser before reaching into the closet, rummaging through the neatly-hung jackets and skirts for something suitable. _That one's a couple of years old, and the hem is starting to come down in back... But I love that shade of peach. I can have it fixed. Oh_ – that _one._

Her hand closed around the hanger burdened with the outfit that Pepper privately referred to as "the unfortunate green suit." Under the lights in the boutique, it had appeared a nice, sensible hunter green. But when she unpacked it at home, she discovered that it actually had more of a sickly bile hue. She'd stuffed it in the back of her closet and tried to forget it existed. The only reason the suit hadn't ended up in a donation box during the move to New York was that letting anyone else see it would be a tacit admission that she had ever owned the thing. "Well, at least it'll give its life in a good cause," she sighed, tossing it onto the bed and crouching down to find a pair of heels she could bear to sacrifice along with it.

A short while later, Pepper stepped into the gymnasium that had been one of Tony's first additions to the Tower. She paused in the doorway, watching the two figures already present, as they sparred. It looked more like a dance, really; the nonstop series of sweeping kicks, fluid strikes, and effortless tumbles as the two agents followed one another's movements looked rehearsed, though Pepper knew that it was intense training, not rote memorization, that shaped their steps.

The pair of Avengers flowed through several more exchanges, blocking or dodging each strike while following it up with one of their own, until Pepper saw Clint notice her. Natasha's bare foot connected hard with the side of his head, and he went down in a mostly-controlled fall. Pepper's hands flew up to her mouth in concern, and she rushed forward to help.

By the time she reached the two agents, Natasha was already helping Clint to his feet. She glanced briefly at Pepper before returning her attention to her sparring partner. "What distracted you?" she asked.

Clint shook his head as if to clear it. "Ow," he complained, then raised his eyes to Pepper, his gaze flitting briefly between her feet and her clothes. "Hi," he offered. "Um... nice outfit?"

She looked down at herself, acutely conscious of the shade of her suit and the fact that her violet leather Louboutin pumps didn't even come close to matching. She met the compliment with a smile. "No it's not, but thank you. I was asked to wear things I would be all right with having destroyed. This is what I could manage on short notice."

Natasha nodded. "That should be fine. Since we're working on self-defense in situations when you're attacked unexpectedly, I wanted you to get used to fighting in the sort of clothes you typically wear in public. They're a bit more restrictive than yoga pants and sneakers, and you'll need to compensate for that."

"That makes sense," Pepper agreed. "I've had to run in heels before." She grimaced, trying not to think too hard about the incident back in California.

"Exactly," Natasha confirmed. "One of the things we'll be practicing is getting out of those shoes quickly. When you've incapacitated your attacker enough to escape, you're better off running barefoot most of the time. Before that, though," she glanced at Clint, grinning, "they do make a useful weapon." Clint groaned.

Pepper's eyes flicked between the two of them, her brow furrowed. "I'm missing something."

"Natasha volunteered me to be your training partner," Clint explained with a grimace. "She plans to have you practice using those things on _me_."

"Is that safe?" she asked, turning to Natasha. "I don't want to hurt him."

Clint snorted. "You're not going to do any more damage to me than Natasha already did today," he replied, mock-glaring at his sparring partner. "My ear is still ringing, Tash."

"Not my fault you were distracted," Natasha retorted. "Besides, you're being quite sufficiently bribed for this favor."

Before Pepper could decide whether the better part of valor lay in not asking, Clint explained. "She promised to order my favorite pizza for the movie night."

"That's a significant favor?" Pepper asked.

"His favorite pizza is onion and jalapeno." Natasha replied, her tone and expression flat.

"Right! So let's get down to business," Clint declared, taking up a solid stance on the mat laid down beneath their feet.

Bracing herself with a deep breath, Pepper tentatively stepped onto the mat. Her heels sank into the soft padding, making her footing even more precarious. "What should I do?"

Natasha looked her over briefly. "Widen your stance a little. Your feet should be a little more than shoulder-width apart, and keep your weight evenly distributed between them." As Pepper adjusted her feet, she nodded. "If you're attacked, it's probably because someone wants you as a hostage, so we'll start by learning to break out of holds."

"That's my cue," Clint grinned. Then something in his manner shifted. He was no longer one of Tony's wacky new friends and housemates; his stony expression and muscles like coiled steel marked him as a trained killer. Before she had time to adjust to the transformation, his left hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"Bring your arm down and out, around his," Natasha barked from the edge of the mat. "Make him twist to follow you." Pepper struggled to do as she said, fighting the powerful grip of her assailant to move her arm. More slowly than she'd have liked, her arm circled his, wrenching his fist around unnaturally until he was forced to let go. The instant she was free, Pepper sprang back from him, wobbling on the soft mat as she fought to keep her balance.

"Don't retreat; he's not going to press the attack for now," Natasha instructed. "Let's try that again. I want that move to be smooth and natural before we go on.

It was twenty minutes before Natasha decided that Pepper had the knack of it sufficiently well in hand. Then they moved on to both wrists at once. Then a counterattack, a strike toward the assailant's eyes. After a few repetitions, Pepper expressed some doubt that she would ever be quick enough for that blow to land.

"You're right," Natasha said. "But you're not intended to; the scratch at the eyes is a feint. The move we'll add next is the real counterattack."

"What is it?" Pepper asked.

Her instructor jerked her chin toward Clint. "Show me you can manage the eye-strike smoothly, and you'll find out." But Clint's stony mask slipped for a second, long enough for him to grimace in rueful anticipation.

The cause of his apprehension was shortly made clear. "Now you'll add a heel kick to his instep to the combination," Natasha told her. "Remember I said those shoes would be useful?"

Pepper nodded. "Can you show me?"

When Natasha stepped onto the mat, Pepper moved back to give her room to stand opposite Clint. Her body pivoted slightly to the side on her left foot, as her right foot came up and then snapped down again, heel-first, at Clint's forward boot. "Where exactly you want to aim depends on what kind of footwear your attacker has on," Natasha explained as she moved. "Boots like his have either a reinforced or steel toe, so you need to aim higher, where the lacing is." She gestured with her bare toes. "That's likely to be the case for most hired muscle. You only see thugs in dress shoes in upper-level corporate and organized crime. In that case, you've got a little more flexibility in where that spike you're wearing lands – but you're probably better off cooperating and waiting for rescue if you run into that type." She moved aside, gesturing at Clint. "You try. The whole combination."

"Should I aim lower?" Pepper asked, stepping into position. "I don't want to hurt–" And then there were hands locked around her wrists, and her body responded just as she'd been drilling for the last hour. Twist, scratch, and now kick. The stiletto heel of her scuffed purple Louboutins came down at a slight angle, snapping when it hit Clint's foot.

"Now kick off both shoes and run!" Natasha ordered. The pumps went flying as Pepper obeyed, and she only hoped that the floor-to-ceiling gymnasium mirror was out of their line of fire.

When she reached the door, she stopped and turned, slipping a little in her stocking feet. Clint was sitting on the mat, nursing his foot, while Natasha nodded at her approvingly. "You've got the right idea," she said. "Now come back, and when Clint stops being a baby, we'll practice it a few more times."

"She broke her heel off _in my foot!"_ Clint grumbled indignantly as he unlaced his boot.

" _On_ your foot, not _in_ it," Natasha retorted. "Let me see it." She crouched beside him as he eased the boot off. "Not bleeding," she observed, and after a minute's inspection, added, "and nothing broken. You'll be fine in a couple of minutes."

By then, Pepper had returned to the mats. "I am so sorry, Clint. I didn't mean to hurt you! I just _reacted_ , and–"

"No, don't apologize." Clint smiled up at her – a little weakly, but he was back to being the Clint she recognized again. "That's exactly what you're supposed to do: react reflexively when attacked, just like your training tells you. You did good. Tasha's right, I'm just whining." He flexed his foot a couple of times before pulling the boot back on, only wincing a little as it slid over his heel. "But I'm gonna make you practice it with the other foot for the rest of today. Without the shoes."

A bubble of laughter escaped her. "It's a deal."

* * *

"So, how did your date with Natasha go?" Tony teased. "Do I have anything to be jealous about?"

Pepper hobbled across the mercifully-carpeted floor of the den, reaching for the couch to support her last few steps. "Not if you give me a foot massage," she told him. "If you can make my feet stop hurting, I'm yours forever."

"She was rough on you, huh?" He set down the gauntlet he'd been fiddling with, and as soon as Pepper was settled on the couch, he pulled her stocking-clad feet into his lap.

She shook her head. "I don't know what made it so difficult. I wear these shoes all the time, and it never bothers me." The broken purple pumps dropped from her exhausted hand onto the carpet beside the sofa.

"But never while you're trying to balance on martial arts mats while fending off would-be kidnappers," Tony pointed out. The pads of his thumbs dug gently into the ball of one foot, and a soft moan rose up from her throat. He smirked and redoubled his efforts. "Feels good?"

"Don't ever stop," she told him, her head tipping back against the sofa cushions and her eyes drifting closed. "I mean it."

"Fury's going to call me in for world-saving heroics eventually," Tony replied.

"I'll write you a note," she retorted. "I'm your boss now; I can do that."

His mouth twisted into a lascivious grin. "I kinda like that."

Pepper poked him in the stomach with her toe. He retaliated by seizing the foot he held and tickling the sole. She shrieked and kicked at him, and Tony grabbed both ankles to protect himself from the thrashing feet.

They both realized at the same time that Tony was holding her legs in the air while Pepper lay on her back on the couch, wearing a skirt that was riding up indecently from their roughhousing. They locked eyes for a moment. Pepper arched an eyebrow. Tony nodded. "JARVIS? Restrict access to this floor to Pepper and myself until further notice."

* * *

In the following weeks, her self-defense lessons with Natasha and Clint became a part of her normal routine, alternating days with her Pilates class. Even though her feet still ached at the end of each lesson, she’d come to enjoy the time she spent with the two SHIELD agents, talking and joking and getting to know them as people – and learning how Natasha’s real personality differed from the “Natalie” persona she’d first encountered last year. Those sessions gave her something to look forward to at times like this, when the members of the Board of Directors were being particularly hard-headed.

Tony’s phone went off in the middle of Kensworth’s tirade. Pepper recognized the ringtone: the ominous stabs of the Imperial March from _Star Wars_ that Tony had set to go off when he got a call from Fury. He stood up, completely ignoring the still-ranting Kensworth, and glanced at Pepper, saying, “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta take this,” before heading for the door. The phone was already to his ear before he cleared the doorway. She heard him say, “Iron Man. What’s the problem?” before he disappeared down the hall to the private elevator that would take him to his workshop and his suits.

Pepper flashed an empty smile at the men still seated around the table. “Well, why don’t we break here for today, and come back to this issue fresh next week? Motion to adjourn.” Someone seconded – Pepper didn’t particularly care who – and there was a chorus of muffled scraping against the carpet as the men pushed their chairs back and rose from the table. Pepper remained in her seat, waiting until they had all filed out of the room, and then picked up her briefcase from beside her chair. “Maybe now I’ll be able to finish reading the paper for once,” she muttered, unlatching the case and withdrawing a folded copy of _The New York Times._

She resisted the twin urges to put her feet up on the boardroom table and to turn straight to the crossword puzzle, instead opening to the National section. Her eyes swept over the headlines: _fire control teams are still struggling with wildfires in the west, another state has legalized gay marriage, there was a prison break in Otisville…_ Pepper frowned. “Otisville,” she repeated aloud. “Where have I heard that name recently?” She read the article over more carefully. An inmate had escaped custody the previous day while being transferred to the Federal Correctional Institution in Otisville; his name was not being released to the press for security reasons. Otisville wasn’t far from New York City, but contained nothing noteworthy outside of prisons, so there was nothing to explain her odd sense of recognition.

Setting the paper aside, Pepper slipped her tablet computer out of her briefcase, thumbing it on and quickly bringing up Google. The first page of results for “Otisville” was filled with stories of the prison break, but page two gave her what she was looking for: “Weapons Contractor Justin Hammer Sentenced to 35 Years in Federal Prison,” declared a link at the top of the page. She clicked it, and sure enough, the article described Hammer’s sentencing hearing and his upcoming transfer to FCI Otisville. It was dated three weeks ago.

Two and two were rapidly adding up in Pepper’s head. _There’s no way it’s a coincidence that the Avengers get called to Assemble the day after someone escapes the prison where Justin Hammer was being transferred. But I need to be sure._ Scooping up newspaper, tablet, and briefcase, she hurried out of the boardroom and down the hall to her office. With barely a nod to her assistant, she closed the door behind her and turned on the plasma television on the wall, turning to CNN. The screen instantly filled with live footage of Iron Man, Thor, and the Hulk battling half a dozen giant robots. The joints of the huge machines looked suspiciously similar to the rogue military bots from the Expo. _That clinches it._ She took a moment to study their surroundings – it looked like they were by the docks on the Hudson side of Manhattan, maybe around Midtown – and then quickly turned off the TV. Pepper knew that if she left it on any longer, she’d only end up staring at the screen paralyzed with fear for Tony. She couldn’t afford that now; she had things to do.

Pepper stepped out of her office. “Rani,” she said to her assistant, whose head had snapped up the moment the door opened. “Clear everyone out of the building. R&D projects can wait. Make sure people know to avoid the West Side.”

Rani nodded her understanding, looking only a little nervous. “Is everything all right, Ma’am?”

“For now it is,” Pepper replied as reassuringly as she could, “but I have a hunch that something nasty is on its way, and I want all of our people out of here in case I’m right. Turn on the news when you get home.”

“And you, Ms. Potts?”

Pepper smiled. “Don’t worry about me. After I run upstairs to get a few things, I’ll be out of here myself. Just get everyone out and get yourself home safe.” She didn’t tell Rani exactly _where_ she was planning to go after she left the Tower; there was no reason to worry her unnecessarily in the midst of an already stressful situation.

Despite the amount of time she spent with Tony, there was still a lot that Pepper didn’t know about machines, and electronics, and computers. But one thing she had learned was that dangerous machines that are operated remotely or run independently on their own programming should always have a software kill switch in the event that their owner loses control. Unless Hammer was even more of an idiot than she thought he was, he would have a kill switch for those robots. After the way he’d been burned by the last person he’d tried to “collaborate” with, Pepper doubted that he’d trust it in anyone’s hands but his own.

After Rani got up and headed for the elevator, Pepper moved to the supply cabinet behind her assistant’s desk and retrieved a large, blank manila envelope and a thick stack of copy paper, which she slid into the envelope. Tucking it under her arm, she headed for the private elevator that led up to the residential floors.

The call to Assemble meant that no one else was home, which was just as well, since any of the Avengers would have tried to stop her if they figured out what she was up to. As it was, she just had to hope that JARVIS was too busy helping Tony with the Iron Man suit to pay any attention to her. She kicked out of her shoes and started stripping off her business clothes as soon as the elevator door pinged shut behind her. When she reached the bedroom she shared with Tony, she dumped her burdens down on the bed and began rummaging through her closet.

Business casual wasn’t a look in much demand for her lately, but she managed to find what she needed relatively quickly. Then she approached the cabinet on the wall opposite the closets, entering the eight-digit code that spelled out “SEXYTIME.” Ignoring the rainbow of flavored lubes, improbably-shaped dildos, and strap-on harnesses, she reached for the items relevant to her current mission: the black pixie-cut wig and the rectangular fashion frames.

A minute later, she regarded herself in the full-length mirror on her closet door. With short, dark hair and glasses, wearing khakis and flats, she looked about as unlike Pepper Potts as she could muster. She snatched up the manila envelope and her phone, and then went around to Tony's side of the bed and grabbed a couple of things from his bedside table: a flash drive, and another little device he'd been fiddling with lately before bed. Then she hurried out the door. The subway awaited.

* * *

Getting there had been easier than Pepper had feared. Choosing not to ask Happy to fight the east-bound tide of traffic as all of Midtown fled the battle had been wise; the streets around the subway stop were clogged as far in all directions as she could see. She suspected that the only reason any subway lines were heading west at all was to bring the cars out to ferry away frightened commuters. Her subway car had been practically deserted, and she’d reached the Hammer Industries building in record time. Whether the fight hadn’t reached this far east yet or had steered around, the block surrounding Hammer’s office tower was untouched. Her disguise, thick manila envelope, and businesslike manner had gotten her past the front receptionist and into the elevator – all that remained was clearing the final threshold to the dragon’s lair.

Pepper was sure that the kill-switch program would be stored on Hammer’s personal machine; Tony wouldn’t have trusted anything that important to a subordinate, and Justin Hammer was every bit as much of an egomaniac as Tony Stark – more so, since Hammer’s arrogance was fueled by an insecurity that Tony lacked. But knowing where her target was wouldn’t do her any good if she couldn’t reach it, and the courier she was pretending to be would have no business going into the private office of a CEO who was officially not in the building. Hammer’s PA, a curly-haired blonde in her mid-twenties, would have security on her in a heartbeat if she tried to wander in. Pepper pretended to study the office directory hanging between the two elevators, trying to think. _I’ve gotten this far; there must be a way to get in there. I just need her out of the office for a few minutes._

She glanced up and down the corridor to ensure that there was no one coming who might find her loitering suspicious. She saw no one, but something else caught her eye: beside the north elevator was a recessed glass case holding a fire extinguisher, and just above it was a clear plastic bubble covering the fire alarm. Her eyes widened. _Oh God. Am I seriously considering this?_ Realizing the absurdity, she snorted softly. _Get a hold of yourself – you’re plotting to commit corporate espionage, and you’re worrying about falsely triggering a fire alarm?_ She could feel her pulse hammering in her throat; the manila envelope crinkled softly as she clutched it tighter against her chest. _There’s no time for this. If that kill-switch is there, I have to get it. People are in danger._ She cut off the second part of that thought – _Tony is in danger_ – before it could fully form.

First, she poked her head into the women’s restroom opposite the elevators to ensure that it was empty. _No feet under the stall doors; good._ Turning back, she took a deep breath, popped open the plastic cover, and yanked down the red lever before she could change her mind.

The alarm klaxon wailed from the speaker just above the bank of elevators, resounding through her skull as Pepper bolted for the bathroom. She kept the door propped just a hair open with her toe so that she would know when the corridor had emptied of employees streaming toward the staircase. It only took a minute or so for the hallway to clear, but to the part of Pepper’s mind that was trying to guess how long it would take Hammer’s security team to realize the false alarm, that minute dragged on endlessly. Finally she opened the door onto the deserted corridor and ran for Hammer’s office.

The PA had tried to lock the door, but in her hurry to evacuate, she hadn’t made sure the latch caught, and the door was ajar. Pepper closed it carefully behind her when she entered. The inner office door was also locked, but a brief search of the PA’s desk drawers revealed a spare key. Now she just had to trust that Tony’s latest pet project for SHIELD worked.

Hammer’s computer was in sleep mode, rather than shut down, which boded well for Pepper’s hunch. _That means he’s running this operation from in the building, rather than some safe-house outside the city. Stupid, but predictable._ Justin Hammer had never been one for sensible safety precautions, judging from past performance. Pepper pulled out the desk chair and perched on the edge of the seat, slipping Tony’s gadget out of her pocket and plugging it into one of the computer’s USB ports.

The screen flickered as the security spike tore through the system’s countermeasures like so much tissue paper, brute-forcing passwords and plowing through partitions. Pepper’s fingers tapped a staccato rhythm on the keyboard as she searched through the hidden files laid bare by the spike. _There it is._ She smiled as she connected her flash drive to the second USB port and clicked on, “Download to Removable Storage Device.”

The piercing peal of the fire alarm died abruptly, leaving Pepper’s ears ringing in the silence. “Well, well. What have we here?” Her head shot up at the sound of the familiar voice. Justin Hammer stood framed in the doorway. He stepped closer, peering at her face. “Pepper Potts? I never took you for the corporate criminal type,” he grinned.

“Well, you’d be the expert,” she shot back, rising from the leather chair. “How was the prison break?”

“Not bad, not bad.” He paced closer to the desk. “It’s all about knowing the right people, and how to grease the wheels to get things moving.”

She tracked his progress toward her carefully, pushing the rolling chair back with one leg to leave herself room to maneuver. “Dangerous move, coming straight back to New York after your escape.”

“Don’t worry; I won’t be here for much longer. My helicopter’s being prepped on the roof as we speak.” He had closed the distance between them, and now stood just a couple of feet in front of her. “And now it looks like you’re going to get to tag along on my trip to Non-Extradition Island.” He grabbed her wrists and made to drag her away from the desk.

The past several weeks of training took over, and she twisted out of his grip, just as she had in practice with Clint hundreds of times. One move followed the next: she clawed the glasses off his face and brought her heel down hard on his foot. She wasn’t wearing her usual Louboutin stilettos, but then, Hammer wasn’t wearing steel-toed boots. As he yelped and bent reflexively to protect his injured foot, Pepper grabbed his hand and twisted it sharply behind him in the arm-lock that Natasha had taught her on Monday. It worked just as well in real combat as it had in practice: Hammer whimpered and arched his back in a futile attempt to ease the pressure on his shoulder, elbow, and wrist.

_Incapacitate your attacker long enough to make your escape._ Natasha’s instructions rang in her mind. Pepper leaned forward and growled in Hammer’s ear, “Get down on the ground, or I’ll break your arm.” She gave his hand a slight twist to underscore the threat.

“Okay, okay, _ow_ ,” Hammer whined as she guided him onto his knees, and then into a prone position, face-down on the carpet. Unsure of what to do next, Pepper’s gaze cast about frantically, until it fell on the telephone cord that trailed from the wireless handset on the desk. She yanked at the cord with her free hand, pulling down the phone base to fall on Hammer’s legs, and unclipped the end of the cord from the phone jack. She gave the other end an abrupt jerk, not caring that the end of the cord tore free from its plastic head. She wrapped the cord around both of Hammer’s wrists behind his back, pulling it tight enough to dig into the flesh before binding it off as best she could.

Pepper glanced at the progress bar on the computer screen: 78%. _Just a few more seconds, and I can get out of here, before his security team comes looking for –_

A cluster of armed men appeared in the doorway before she could complete the thought, leveling pistols at her the moment they saw a stranger in the room. She ducked back behind the heavy desk, grabbing the first object she saw that could pass as a weapon on her way down. It was an engraved pen, the metal-nibbed kind used with inkwells, and probably cost more than the car she’d owned in college. She crouched beside Hammer and pressed the sharp nib to the side of his neck, about where she guessed the carotid artery was. “Tell them to stay back,” she demanded.

“Hold your positions!” Hammer shouted, his voice an octave higher than usual and only slightly muffled by the carpet. “She’s armed!”

Pepper peeked just over the edge of the desk, both to check the progress of the download and to ensure that the guards were complying with Hammer’s order. One of them fired off a shot, and she dropped back down behind the desk; the bullet went wide, piercing the floor-to-ceiling window behind them. The reinforced glass didn’t shatter completely, but an intricate spiderweb of cracks radiated out from the small hole that the bullet’s passage had left.

“Who pulled that trigger?” Hammer snarled from the floor. “Whoever it was, you’re fired!”

Leaning against the solid wood of the desk, Pepper swallowed against the feeling of her heart trying to climb out her mouth. _At least the download’s complete,_ she thought with the sort of uneasy humor that she had to work very hard to prevent from turning hysterical. Fortunately the desktop computer’s tower was tucked into a compartment beside the foot-well of the desk, making it easy for her to unplug the security spike and flash drive and slip them into her pocket without exposing herself again.

_I’ve got to find a way out of here._ She’d done a brief visual sweep of the room when she’d first walked in, and there was only the one door. She didn’t like her chances of trying to walk past the guards by using Hammer as a hostage; too much could go wrong too easily. She looked around desperately for something, anything she could use to improve her odds. A flash of red and gold blurred past the windows. _Tony?_

Looking down into the street below, she saw that yes, the Avengers had forced the giant robots back from whatever destination they were headed toward – _Stark Tower, almost certainly_ – and were now quite close by. She could see the Hulk climbing up one of the metal behemoths, and thought she could make out Hawkeye on the roof of a building across the street. _The others won’t be far. And Clint will spot me, at least._ Something in her stomach clenched as she realized what she was contemplating. She fought the urge to look straight down at the pavement. _I’m really about to do this, aren’t I? I must be insane. Tony, living with you has finally driven me completely insane._ She heard shifting and shuffling noises coming from the other side of the room, by the door. _But I guess I don’t have much choice._

Off came the wig and the eyeglass frames; she wanted to be as recognizable as possible to her friends outside, since she was relying on their help to survive this. Putting one knee across Hammer’s legs to prevent him from going anywhere, she pulled the desk chair a little closer. It wasn’t as heavy as she’d feared, but she didn’t have much leverage crouched down as she was. Helpfully, her memory supplied an image from yesterday’s self-defense lesson with Natasha and Clint, when they’d started showing her some basic throws. The chair was both lighter and less resisting than the well-muscled archer she’d been training with. If she could adapt one of those moves…

She faced the window and rolled the chair behind her, glancing back to make sure that it wasn’t close enough to the desk to catch on anything. Careful that she didn’t expose her head again, she rose up on her heels with her back against the chair’s backrest. She reached up to grab the padded leather as securely as she could. _Please let this work,_ she silently entreated anyone who might be listening. Then she curled quickly forward, pulling the chair with her and letting her shoulders act as a fulcrum.

The chair sailed over her head and into the cracked pane of glass – and then straight _through_ it with an enormous crash. _That should get their attention._ It also got the attention of Hammer’s security team, and she heard one of them shout, “Go! Go! Go!” That was her cue. Before she could think too hard about what she was doing and how suicidally stupid it was, she leapt up and dove after the chair.

For an instant, it felt surprisingly liberating, just like diving from the high board of Tony’s swimming pool back in Malibu. Then gravity kicked in. She was falling, plummeting, wind in her ears and asphalt rushing up to meet her and _Oh God what am I doing I’m going to die –_

Tony was there. He wrapped one metal-encased arm snugly around her and angled the vector of their fall away from the street, pulling them out of the dive gradually to protect her from the g-forces.

They set down on the roof of another building, half a block away. During the flight, Pepper had clamped both arms around him tightly enough that Tony’s armor was the only reason he could breathe. Once her feet were steady under her, Tony unlocked her arms from around his neck and lifted his faceplate to look at her face-to-face; his expression was a confused cocktail of terror, anger, and relief. “Pepper! My God – what the hell happened? What are you even doing here – how did – are you all right?”

She fished around in her pocket for the flash drive that was, thankfully, still there, and held it out to him in her open palm. “The robots are Hammer’s. He broke out of prison. I got the kill switch to shut them down.”

He stared at her for a moment, blank amazement momentarily dominating his other emotions. Then he took the flash drive from her, looked down at his suit, and then back up at her. “Give me your phone.”

“My phone? Why?” Even as she asked, she was already reaching in her other pocket for it.

“I don’t have any USB ports,” he replied. “JARVIS, make a note: the Mark IX needs USB ports.”

He reached out to take the smartphone she'd thrust toward him, but aborted the gesture, shaking his head. “Touchscreen. Gauntlets. You need to do it, Pep.”

The adrenaline from the fall was making her hands tremble a little, but she nodded, taking the flash drive back from him. “Walk me through it.”

Tony stepped behind her and wrapped an armor-sheathed arm around her waist, looking over her shoulder at the phone as he directed her through the steps of accessing and activating the kill switch program. She leaned back gratefully into the solid reassurance of him, trying to focus on following his instructions rather than thinking about what had just happened. “Now hit ‘Send,’” he told her.

Pepper tapped the green button on the touchscreen, and a little animation of a radio tower with signals emanating from it appeared on her screen, with the word “Transmitting” below it. A few moments later, the sounds of nearby combat ground to a halt, and they could see the huge robots stop moving and power down. One of them fell over, crushing an empty city bus beneath it.

Tony spun her around in his arms, kissing her briefly but passionately. The gentle scratch of his goatee against her face felt so vividly _real_. “You did it, Pepper!”

She giggled, sounding a little unsteady even to her own ears. “I think _we_ did it, is more accurate.”

He nuzzled at her ear, cradling her face with one gauntleted hand. “You got the kill switch, and you shut down the giant robots.”

Pepper turned her face and kissed him again. “And you saved me – just like I knew you would.” She glanced down the street, looking up at the Hammer logo on the building she’d narrowly escaped from. “Someone should go make sure Hammer doesn’t get away. He said something about a helicopter on the roof.”

Tony nodded. “You hear that, Sparky?” he said into his comm.

Thor’s voice boomed out of the comm speaker clearly enough for Pepper to hear. “Indeed, Iron Man. I shall intercept him now.” Tony only winced a little at the volume.

“Taken care of,” he told her. “And I’ve got a few minutes before I need to join up with the others for damage control. So would you mind telling me exactly what happened up there? You scared the crap out of me!”

“You?” She swatted him playfully on his metal-plated chest. “How do you think _I_ felt?”

“Actually, I’ve got a pretty good idea how you felt,” he grinned. “You’re not the only one in this relationship who’s ever taken a swan-dive out a skyscraper window without a safety net.”

“Well, I think I’ve had my fill of heroics for one day,” Pepper sighed. “I’ll tell you the whole story if you can get me on the ground and on my way home.”

Tony bent down and scooped her up bridal-style, his grin widening. “I believe that can be arranged.”


End file.
